Take a breath: Whidbey artist captures community, brings us together

Funny thing about meeting artists, you never know what you’ll get. Defiant songs of protest? Radical ideology, nuanced with angry brushstrokes? Red hats? Rainbows?

Or none of that.

“It never came up,” says photographer David Hundley. “To a person, there was no discussion of politics.” Now that is refreshing, isn’t it?

Hundley recently shot portraits of 100 Whidbey artists, as described in the Whidbey News-Times and South Whidbey Record in October. They were poets, musicians, painters, sculptors, woodworkers, fellow photographers and more, most of whom Hundley had never met. At his Greenbank studio, Hundley gently got to know his subjects, one at a time. By the end of each session, he had coaxed a unique personality into a set of black and white images. The collection exudes the artists’ joy and passion for their craft.

A recent visitor to the exhibit even claimed he could hear the portraits. He caught bits of laughter, song, poetry, the whirr of a potter’s wheel, the wail of a sax. But there was one sound, maybe honestly the sound he expected, that wasn’t there: not a whisper of divisiveness and anger. And in today’s tinderbox times, when a simple remark about a clear blue sky can get you called woke or fascist, wow. Amazing.

Hundley found his way to Greenbank eight years ago, when a sudden health issue truncated a planned vacation. Instead of a weeks-long circuit of Utah’s national parks, he and his wife, Abigail, stayed closer to their Seattle home and spent some time on Whidbey. Inspired, they purchased four acres and sank new roots here on the island.

His career in commercial photography had taken Hundley to Los Angeles, New York, Paris and back home again to Seattle. The regular paychecks were great, but as an artist he wanted more freedom. On Whidbey, he wanted to return to what attracted him to photography in the first place, fine art.

A fine artist creates what means something to him, from an inspiration deep within, absent the enticement of a commission or a contract. When he’s done, if he’s fortunate, he might find a buyer. It’s art for art’s sake, but when it comes to making a living, “there’s no guarantee,” says Hundley.

His 100 Artists project began as a fun thing for Hundley in 2020, a way to set aside his concerns about fine art income and find community in the middle of the COVID pandemic. It was slow going in the beginning. He was ignored by some. Others questioned his intent. “What’s in this for you?” came at him more than once.

“I had no ulterior motive. This was my gift to Whidbey Island,” says Hundley today. He had to do some convincing early on, but once the idea got rolling, it had a synergy all its own. “I actually ended up with more than 100.”

Currently on display at the Pacific Northwest Art School in Coupeville, the faces bring community together just as Hundley envisioned five years ago. From local legacy icons to quiet unknowns, they’re all on equal footing here. The kind gaze of Hedgebrook founder Nancy Nordhoff — a community builder herself — looks down from the upper row. Music photographer Dennis Browne, whose work has featured hundreds of Whidbey musicians and shows, peers at the camera from behind his own lens.

From one frame to the next, Hundley describes “not six degrees, but just one degree” that separates us here on our island. He found out mid-session that one of his subjects had dated Hundley’s brother in high school. Others are related, or married, to each other. Hundley’s visitor rounds a corner of the exhibit, and does a double take. “Hey! Those ladies are my cousins!”

Hundley’s eyes light up as he points out talented photographer Michael Holtby, whose work has been featured here on the News-Times’ pages. “Remember the beard project?” His visitor gets a laugh recalling Holtby’s 2023 exhibit at the Oak Harbor Library. Fifty bearded dudes, showing off not just their artistry in facial hair but the talent of the man who photographed them, and what got all the attention? “Just a blue beard on a fella in a dress,” says the visitor. “Strange, what it takes to get noticed, isn’t it?”

Mary Elizabeth Himes, poet laureate of Whidbey Institute, was featured in this column last April. Himes says of her experience in Hundley’s studio, “working with David felt natural. He eased me into a relaxing place as we talked about familiar things on the island and what it feels like to be here amongst other creative spirits. It was nothing like I had expected. What surprised me about his work is the way he captured me. The lighting and placement… I was pretty… he caught my softness which I never see in myself.”

Beyond his own photography work, Hundley continues to build community. He’s president of the 46-years-strong Whidbey Island Arts Council, supporting local artists and arts groups. He was one of 31 artists in 2025’s annual Whidbey Working Artists Studio Tour. He worked on a steering committee to create the Coupeville Creative District, established in 2024, celebrating the community’s diverse talents and traditions, from indigenous crafts and storytelling to contemporary art forms.

Hundley may not have come here intending to forge a stronger community, but his roots in public service run deep. His late father, Walter, was a minister and social worker, director of Seattle’s Central Area Motivation Project and Model Cities Program, who somehow found time for a full-time job as Seattle’s superintendent of Parks and Recreation. That’s a strong legacy, and David Hundley’s pride is evident as he speaks of his father.

Hundley is seeking a North Whidbey location for his 100 artists, having shown it in his studio/gallery, Langley and Coupeville this year. He would love to find a permanent home for the exhibit, where viewers can appreciate the strength of the humans behind our local art scene.

Just a guess here, but it seems like Walter Hundley would be proud too.

William Walker’s monthly “Take a Breath” column seeks paths to unity on Whidbey Island in polarized times. He blogs occasionally at https://playininthedirt.substack.com/.